


to the lighthouse (before you even knew it)

by sycophantic



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, emotionally in touch fishermen, so much introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycophantic/pseuds/sycophantic
Summary: Jongin hates the sea, but he moves to Jeju-do for the summer, sketchbook in hand and dreams of a career in Seoul on hold. Stuck in a rut, he meets Chanyeol, a local fisherman who is intent on figuring him out.





	1. the window

**Author's Note:**

> This borrows a few elements and quotes from Virginia Woolf’s ‘To The Lighthouse’, but you don’t need to be familiar with the text to read the fic. I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time and I have never written a fic before, so kudos and comments would go a long way. Also, Chanyeol and Jongin are the same age in this.  
[어느새](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/%EC%96%B4%EB%8A%90-%EC%83%88-one-knows-one-knows.html), the song by Jang Pil Soon mentioned at the start is roughly translated as “before someone realises something”—a theme that I thought resonates throughout.  
Playlist here: [8tracks](https://8tracks.com/sycophantic/to-the-lighthouse-before-you-even-knew-it)  
As always, a huge thank you to my dear friends Tony and Sirius, without whose encouragement this would not have existed.

A white net curtain blew gently in tandem with the oscillating fan, its hum making Jongin sleepy in the early morning hour. He rested his chin on folded arms as he leaned over the windowsill, looking out into the ocean that glittered a steel grey hue under the sun that itched to reach its zenith. The fishing boats bobbed gently as they cast their nets out for the day, the distant voices of the fishermen drowned out by the shrill cries of birds circling overhead. A white lighthouse stood straight on a small, man-made island surrounded by concrete tetrapods. He could see the row of restaurants dotted along Seobudu-gil that were still shut, their previously bright signs washed pale in the light of dawn. Jongin felt safe behind the apartment window, far removed from the water that seemed to inch closer to him with each lick of its lap on the black coast, threatening to pull him in. 

He reached for his pencil and sketchbook to capture the scene as he had been keeping track of his time in Jeju through the visual diary, but he could never quite get the angular jut of the waves quite right, driving his mechanical pencil to tear through the page in frustration. Nothing he had drawn these days seemed quite right. Muffled by the thin walls, he heard his aunt’s favourite Jang Pil Soon record play as the singer crooned about becoming getting older and duller before she even realised it, fading with time. He tried to not let the melancholy of his situation sink too deep into his bones. He was here because his mother told him to be a good nephew and help out her sister and her brother-in-law who had been missing their own son—Sehun, who moved to Seoul a year ago to attend university and to take up a semi-permanent residence in Jongin’s kitchen to raid his cupboards when he thought Jongin wasn’t looking. Jongin had agreed to all this, because to argue with his mother was a useless task. Perhaps also a little bit because Seoul had been stifling and uninspiring if the pinched mouth of his boss when Jongin presented his new illustrations was anything to go by. His internship came to an end, and a month later Jongin found himself with nothing but the sea for company in Jeju-si, far removed from the constant buzz of his previous neighbourhood of Jongno-gu.

With a sigh, Jongin threw his sketchbook on the desk that was still cluttered with some of Sehun’s old things, and slinked back under the covers of his low bed, shutting his eyes for a moment longer before he had to head down to the restaurant for the day. He could hear the sound of the waves through the open window, and he drifted to sleep with the thought of how much he hated the beach. Before he even knew it, the days started to slip beneath him like sand, and his future looked uncertain.

—

Jongin was startled out of his daydream whilst washing lettuce by the clanging of a car door that carried through the open window, as well as the hollering voices of the fishermen greeting his aunt stood outside the restaurant. The door swung wide open as an old woman followed by a young man carried boxes of produce towards the kitchen, bringing the smell of the ocean with them. Jongin ripped at the lettuce head in recoil and watched it fall apart in his hands.

“Good morning,” the younger of the two greeted with a quick bow as he stacked the pallets full of seafood near the fish tanks. “I’m not sure if I’ve seen you around before.”

Jongin took in the tall man, who simpered at him with a smile that was uncertain around the edges. “I’m Jongin,” he replied. “I’m down from Seoul for the summer to help my aunt here at the restaurant.” _ For the summer _ sounded better than I _ don’t know how long I’m here for and that’s a little bit terrifying_.

“Oh,” the stranger’s smile got wider. “City boy.” Jongin looked down at his vegetables and hummed for a lack of a response. He flexed his fingers. An artist’s hands, his mother once told him, now used for manual labour.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he continued. “My grandmother is a haenyeo, and I’ve been driving her out so she can drop some of her catch off.”

“That’s nice of you.” Jongin replied noncommittally.

“Well, there’s also not that much to do around here other than fishing, so I do what I can to keep busy,” Chanyeol chuckled and finished sliding the pallets over. Jongin noticed how large his hands were. He mused that Chanyeol had the grip of a person who handled things firmly and surely, much unlike himself. He raised his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s again as the man continued to talk. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. We have a few other restaurants to get to on Seobudu-gil. I’ll see you around, Jongin-ssi. It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Jongin’s cheeks felt inexplicably warm at being addressed so candidly as he watched Chanyeol retreat, the broad line of his shoulders set straight beneath a hideously bright yellow raincoat. Jongin was a little bit struck, and he felt glum for a moment once the stranger had left, until his aunt hurried him to put the seafood in the glass tanks in front of the restaurant. Later that day it rained, and Jongin wondered if Chanyeol’s coat was waterproof.

—

Chanyeol kept lingering after his morning seafood deliveries, until his grandmother started to nag him for taking too long, and he always gave Jongin an apologetic smile when he had to go, taking his sunshine with him. After a while, he began to turn up by himself in early afternoons when customers were sparse. On days where fishing wasn’t going well he would walk in, still dripping from the sea spray, beaming when Jongin perked up at his presence and giving Jongin’s aunt his best chastised look when she scolded him for not taking his dirty shoes off. Chanyeol helped set Jongin up the white plastic tables and chairs outside, and they sat next to the pedestrian path of the road. He told Jongin stories about his fellow fishermen, growing up in Jeju and how much the place has changed in his grandmother’s lifetime whilst the other listened with rapt attention. Chanyeol pulled out small smiles from Jongin like precious pearls from the seabed, and kept them to himself like a pirate. 

“You’ve never been outside Jeju City?” Chanyeol’s eyes bulged as him and Jongin took turns rapidly questioning each other about their lives, so utterly different from one another’s. Jongin told him about his days at SNU and his small group of friends. He felt a pang as he thought of all the missed calls from them, on nights when he came back too tired to pick up the phone and tell them _ yes, everything here is exactly the same as the last time you called_. The tourists came and went, and all he saw was the restaurant and his aunt’s home.

“No,” replied Jongin. “I don’t think so. I don’t really remember the few trips I had here as a kid, and my mother always wanted to go on holidays abroad.” She had never said it, but Jongin knew something about coming back here unsettled her. 

Chanyeol hummed in understanding. “What if we drove out today?”

“Oh,” Jongin considered his proposition. “I don’t know, my aunt might need me.”

“It’s two in the afternoon and I’m your first customer today, Jongin. But of course, ask her. I’ll pick you up in an hour, I need to get changed first.” Chanyeol knew she would agree before she even said it, ducking out of the restaurant and narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the low sliding doors. He moved with an easy confidence that contrasted his long and gangly limbs, and Jongin wondered what it was like to live as a person who was sure of things that he didn’t even wait for an answer.

After his aunt almost pushed him out of the restaurant in her enthusiasm at Jongin making a same-age friend, he jogged back to the apartment block adjacent to the restaurant and got changed, opting for comfortable, oversized clothes in muted earthy tones. Maybe blending in with the landscape would make him stick out less like a sore, Seoulite thumb. As an afterthought, he quickly stuffed some overnight essentials into his worn rucksack. Glancing at his phone, he had about fifteen minutes until he had to meet Chanyeol again. He caught himself in the reflection of the small bathroom mirror, cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement as he gnawed at his lips.

Peeking his head at the car park in the back of the restaurant, Jongin was startled by the sound of a car horn behind him. Chanyeol’s muffled laughter could be heard even through the closed doors of his small van, and as Jongin turned around he saw him rest his forehead on the steering wheel as his shoulders shook. Embarrassed, Jongin huffed and stalked to his car, opening the door and getting in silently in mock indignation.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Chanyeol said, his ebbing laughs still hiccuping one over another. “Stop pouting so much, it makes you look like Tweety.” Jongin straightened his mouth and looked ahead, trying his best to not crack a smile.

As they drove out of the city, Jongin rolled the windows down and watched the landscape dotted with colourful mismatched low roofs whip past him. Dozing off, he felt the warmth of the sun as it shone through the thin film of his closed eyelids. Chanyeol told him they were driving to Ongpo-ri, a quieter province about an hour away. He enthused about the white sand Hyeopjae beach, and Jongin didn’t have the heart to tell him he sees enough of the sea out of his window every day. 

Chanyeol gently shook his shoulder when they arrived, and watched Jongin’s eyes flutter open and shut as he got his bearings. He must have fallen asleep somewhere just past Halla General Hospital. 

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” Chanyeol answered his own question.

“Always. Lead the way, tour guide.”

Chanyeol put on his best imitation of the pleasant voice of an announcer woman, gesturing around him. “Here we have rocks. Over to your left, there are more rocks.” Jongin laughed at his stupid jokes, throwing his head back as he felt the breeze ruffle his hair. 

It was quiet here, save for the birdsong and the distant hum of cars from the main road. Chanyeol led them down a path lined with low basalt rocks, and they walked leisurely, steps falling in tandem with one another’s. They came to a stop as Chanyeol gestured to a sign that said they’d reached _ Dalli Book Café _. Taking off their shoes at the entrance, they slipped into one of the pairs of sliders lined up by the door. The dark wood floors creaked under the weight of their steps, breaking through the hush of the empty café, and the room had a scent of sandalwood from the candles that lined the tables. Jongin ordered a citrus tea, wrinkling his nose when Chanyeol asked for an iced americano as he grumbled about how tired he was after driving. They got a tray of different cakes to try, and carried it to a table in the corner. There was an open trunk of books to choose from, with post-it notes from the owner detailing her favourites. Jongin thumbed through their pages, picking one out to buy before he left.

The men faced each other in comfortable silence as they ate their food, and Jongin was enraptured by the simple beauty of this place.

“You know,” Jongin began, unsure if he should continue. Chanyeol looked at him, and the words tumbled out. “I forgot there was more to Jeju than the restaurant.”

The windows were wide open and a rose bush fluttered under the breeze. Through the blinds, swathes of light fell in stripes on Chanyeol, and Jongin itched to put it down onto a canvas. He felt like he was nineteen again, a freshman at SNU with an empty sketchbook and a heart he wanted to share with the world.

“I’m happy to show you around,” Chanyeol replied. “This is my home, after all.”

After they finished up their food, they stepped out into the decked garden through the sliding doors, and Chanyeol cooed at the sight of cats sleeping next to a row of potted plants, soaking in the afternoon rays. He crouched down and stroked the animals gently for a while, until he started to get sneezy and teary.

“You’re allergic to cats?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol replied, jutting out his lip in sadness. “I guess I just can’t stay away from cute things, no matter how much it pains me,” he added, looking at Jongin who was pointedly studying the plant next to him.

On their walk back to the car, Chanyeol suggested a detour to Hyeopjae beach nearby before they drove to their accommodation for the night in Aewol-eup. Jongin hummed in agreement, feeling too awkward to refuse without providing a good reason and maybe a little because he wanted to make Chanyeol smile again. Upon their arrival, Jongin stopped to look for a moment at the unusual white sand as Chanyeol stretched his arms above his head, breathing in the salty air.

“I like this so much. Isn’t it pretty? The water is so much clearer here than it is where we live.” Chanyeol was right, but the clear azure still didn’t enchant Jongin.

“Don’t you ever get sick of the sea?” Jongin asked, perplexed at Chanyeol’s enthusiasm.

“Sure I do. Like my parents get sick of each other, but at the end of the day, they love each other more than anyone else in the world. It’s an unconditional kind of love. It’s my livelihood.”

“So you’re in love with the sea?” Jongin teased. “Does anyone else even stand a chance?”

Jongin couldn’t look at Chanyeol after he said that, fearing he revealed too much. He turned around to hop on the sparse black rocks covered in green algae that were further away from the coast. He gasped as his shoes lost grip on the slippery weeds, but Chanyeol’s firm hands caught him from behind. Wordlessly, Chanyeol held onto him and the vice grip of fear that held Jongin’s neck receded like the tide. He tasted his heart in his throat; its hammering wouldn’t slow for as long as he felt Chanyeol’s fingertips burn through the thin material of his shirt. Chanyeol didn’t question why the other man didn’t go near the water, and the spell of the moment was broken as Jongin shrugged out of his hands. Chanyeol awkwardly wiped his hands on his jeans as their physical contact dawned on him, but his expression remained deliberately blank. “I’m fine,” evaded Jongin. “Can we grab something to eat soon?”

Jongin was wide awake to watch Chanyeol drive this time. He looked every bit the country boy he was as he twisted the steering wheel with one hand, reclining comfortably and singing along to the tinny radio. The cadence of Chanyeol’s warm voice filled up the space between them. After a while, Jongin quietly joined in, and he heard the smile in Chanyeol’s voice as the other man sang louder. The blue of the sea looked prettier than Jongin had ever seen it in the reflection of Chanyeol’s mirrored sunglasses perched low on his nose. On their way to Aewol-eup, they stopped for some seafood ramyeon in Gwakji-ri. They sat outside under the netted canopy, slurping their food in comfortable silence. Chanyeol had gotten them a discount, and Jongin’s ears felt hot with unfounded jealousy as he watched the man easily joke with the restaurant staff. He looked past them outside the window, where the beach was coloured a soft pink from the sun beginning to dip before the horizon.

“This lobster isn’t as nice as the ones you can get in Dongmun market,” Jongin wrinkled his nose in exaggeration.

“Ah,” laughed Chanyeol, pointing at Jongin with his chopsticks. “Turning into a real Jeju boy now, are you?”

“No,” retorted Jongin, and the familiar taste of the sea in the back of his throat reminded him of drowning. He took a sip of his Coke, and squashed the childhood memory down.

Their accommodation was a short drive away, and Jongin was pleasantly surprised at Chanyeol’s choice. Their room was simple, decorated in light brown wood. Two western style beds were separated by a small bedside table, and through the door there was a small terrace area with two chairs facing each other. The windows were large, and night was stealing the last bits of colour from the sky. There were few street lights here, and the dark water reflected distant flood lights from the bay. Chanyeol yawned, and plopped down one of the beds like a starfish, his long limbs hanging over the edge.

“God, I’m as tired as a dog,” he sighed. Jongin pointedly did not look at his shirt that had ridden up and exposed some of his stomach, and Chanyeol seemed to have not noticed or cared.

“Thanks for, you know,” Jongin began, waving his hands in the air even though Chanyeol had his eyes closed. “Taking me around. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all, Jongin.” Chanyeol replied simply. “We both have work the day after tomorrow, so I thought we could stop by the tangerine farm tomorrow morning before we drove back.”

“Sure, that sounds good. I’m gonna go wash up first, if you don’t mind.” Chanyeol grunted in assent, and Jongin grabbed his bag and closed the en suite bathroom door after him. The promise of returning to Jeju-si dampened his mood. Jongin wanted to say more, to thank Chanyeol again, but he couldn’t find the words. He looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, and pondered if others saw a person who had almost given up on his own happiness at the age of twenty four. He spat, and his toothpaste was pink from scrubbing at his gums so hard.

Chanyeol went into the bathroom after him as Jongin fixed himself up on the bed comfortably. Jongin smiled into the book in his lap as the other man emerged in a cloud of steam a few minutes after, clad in oversized pyjamas and his hair towelled dry. The domesticity of their situation felt almost familiar, with the uncertain edges of the awkwardness of a new friendship as they both lay awake in the dark.

“Good night, Jongin.” Chanyeol shuffled in his blankets.

“Good night,” Jongin whispered into the dark, eyes trained on the sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. He laid awake until he heard Chanyeol’s soft snore, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

—

They checked out of their accommodation in the late morning after they had breakfast on the terrace. Chanyeol hid his puffy face with his hands and Jongin laughed at him as the other man cursed his own late night snacking habits. Jongin didn’t tell Chanyeol about how he woke up before him and saw him wrapped up in white sheets, or how he quietly got out his sketchbook and laid down the scene before him before it evaporated like a dream upon waking. He figured he could keep some of his secrets to himself.

As they drove in the direction of Jeju-si, they stopped at a tangerine farm. The morning was still balmy and breezy, but the sky was cloudless, a sure omen of a sweltering afternoon. An older lady at the reception of the farmhouse showed them around once they paid their entrance fares, with bowls and scissors in hand. Her magenta gloves contrasted against the bright tangerines she picked as a demonstration, and Jongin felt the spark of inspiration in his chest again. They gave her a quick bow and thanks, and traipsed further down the path.

“Try this one,” Chanyeol proffered Jongin a slice of the tangerine he just peeled. “This one’s so sweet.”

“They’re all sweet.” Jongin countered. Chanyeol stepped closer and Jongin’s jaw went slack at their proximity. He hadn’t noticed the mole on Chanyeol’s nose before, and his temples and the tops of his cheekbones were coloured honey from working outside under the sun. The other man chose that moment to pop the slice in Jongin’s mouth, hands briefly making contact with lips. Jongin chewed to distract from the blush that was creeping up his neck, and hummed in appreciation.

“See, told you it’s good.” Jongin wished he could have wiped the smug grin off Chanyeol’s face. He gripped the tangerine in his hand tighter and thought it was dire time for revenge, smushing the soft fruit in the vague area of Chanyeol’s mouth, who sputtered as juice dripped down his chin. He looked furious, and Jongin cackled with glee. 

The air smelled sweet with citrus peel, and Jongin felt like a child as he ran down the path with the wind rushing in his ears as Chanyeol shouted at him to wait up, earning themselves stern looks from the few groups of families with children. They filled themselves up on the sweet fruit, and weighed their full bags before they took them back to the car.

They had lunch at a restaurant that they stumbled upon whilst following one of the many rocky paths lined with dol hareubang, killing time before they had to go back home. Jongin stirred the grains into his abalone juk and adjusted his legs under the low table. Chanyeol ate way more than his fair share of their colourful side dishes and talked his ear off about the Jeju deities his grandmother taught him about as a child, telling him how he should meet her someday. Jongin’s heart felt warm and content.

“What are you smiling to yourself about? Is your juk that good?” Chanyeol teased him.

“Stop talking with your mouth full,” Jongin chastised in reply.

The sun was high in the sky as they got in the car for the final time. The time they spent together fell quickly like the final grains of sand in an hourglass, and Jongin realised how much of a rut he was stuck in, each day rising with a promise of being exactly the same as the last one. They drove in silence, and the radio was off. Jongin closed his eyes and willed himself to not retreat back into his shell. He decided he would spend the rest of his day finishing his sketches and savouring the taste of the tangerines he had brought back from the farm (adamantly not thinking of Chanyeol’s calloused hand brushing his lip).

The drive was not long, and it came to an end before Jongin could slip into the molasses of his daydreams too deeply. Sweet as they were, they were sticky and impossible to swim out of once he fell in.

“Thank you,” Jongin told him again. He wanted to lighten up the tone as the silence enveloped them once Chanyeol had cut the engine. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but maybe Jeju isn’t so bad after all.”

“Such praise. Anytime,” Chanyeol chuckled dryly. Jongin clambered out of the car, and the other man leaned over the open window to see him off. “I mean it.”

—

On one of his days off, Jongin got on a bus to Sarabong park. His aunt looked at him in slight concern when he refused her company, giving her vague excuses for wanting to see the local area. He gave her a smile before he made his swift exit from the apartment and trudged down to a nearby bus stop, the roads still quiet as older men hung out by the backs of the buildings having a smoke. Once he got on the bus and tapped his card, he sat at the back and readjusted his beanie after putting in his headphones to drown out the sound of the chortling exhaust. There were a few weeks left until the time when the yellow canola flowers that dotted the landscape started to dwindle, and somewhere along the way, Jongin had lost the number of days in Jeju he had counted in his mind.

On the way to the park, he spotted the brilliant red and azure of the Mochungsa temple. After he climbed the stone steps of the park trail, he sat down on a vacant bench in the rest area. Noting the quietness of the playground next to him, Jongin realised how he became an early riser in his time in Jeju, even on the days where he didn’t need to do anything. Unpacking the breakfast made by his aunt and taking out his chopsticks, he wondered why the passing of time felt different here. In Jeju-si, it stretched slow around meandering rocks, and in Aewol with Chanyeol, it cascaded quick like the hard jets of a waterfall. Jongin contemplated calling his old friends in Seoul, but he figured most of them would be at work or asleep. His finger hovered over his contacts list, and Sehun’s name caught his eye. 

“Hyung?” Sehun’s voice was a little fuzzy from the poor reception. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering how you’re doing,” Jongin replied, dragging his chopstick through the rice in his free hand. 

“I’m fine,” Sehun masked his surprise well, but Jongin knew he was curious about why he reached out. “What have you been up to? Make any friends?”

“Hmph,” Jongin gave himself a pause to think as he sipped from his water bottle. He figured Sehun would sense it if he was lying, but perhaps not if he omitted some things. He wanted to keep his and Chanyeol’s time to himself, for some selfish reason he didn’t want to consider right now. “Not friends, exactly. There’s not that many people my age here apart from the tourists. One of the local fishermen comes over to the restaurant a lot with his grandmother and we talk. His name’s Chanyeol. Maybe you met him while you still lived here?”

“Oh! Chanyeollie-hyung!” Sehun’s voice rang out in pleasant surprise, and the familiarity in Sehun’s address of the man did not escape Jongin. Chanyeol had never asked about Sehun much apart from some basic pleasantries, but by now Jongin figured that he didn’t ask many questions about his past because he didn’t think he would get answers. He felt it was a little silly of him to get upset at the thought. “He’s great. He used to take me out fishing, and the first time I got stupidly drunk was with him. I mean, I don’t ever want to smell grapefruit soju again, but he’s still a great guy.”

“Yeah, he’s nice.” Jongin didn’t know how much he should say, and what Chanyeol’s boundaries of friendship were. Perhaps he took all the new pretty boys out in town and showed them his favourite places, but Jongin swatted away his sudden bout of insecurity like a persistent fly. He knew their time away had to mean something to Chanyeol too. “How come you’re up so early? Aren’t you supposed to be a nocturnal student, colouring the floor with vomit in Hongdae somewhere?” He opted to joke, and hoped he didn’t sound like he was trying to change the subject.

“I guess old habits die hard,” Sehun replied after a beat of silence. “It still feels weird when I wake up here and I can’t see the sea.” He cleared his throat. “You should go down to the harbour, you know. It’s beautiful at sunset. Bring Chanyeol with you too, before you set your head on fire from all that overthinking. Or do you still not go near it? You must be the only person in Jeju who hates the sea.”

“Old habits die hard indeed. Goodbye, Sehun.” Jongin clicked to end the call, and held his phone in his hand as he tried to think of what to make of their conversation. Maybe him and Chanyeol were really friends now, even though he smelled like the sea and made Jongin jealous with the way his loud laugh charmed everyone. He didn’t know where their friendship stood after their night away, and it scared him to think that it probably meant more to him than it did to Chanyeol.

After finishing his breakfast, he packed his things away and continued to hike to the peak. His body ached pleasantly from the exercise, and he stopped to catch his breath. The tops of the lush greenery were covered by a slight mist that was yet to clear, and Jongin continued to hop up the stone steps until he reached the peak, marked by the Mangyangjeong pavilion. He walked closer to the edge and gripped the railing as he looked out onto the city that seemed so distant. Jongin furrowed his brow as he noticed he was too far away to see the fishing boats at the dock, and he squinted and looked to no avail. He felt a little confused as he finally couldn’t smell the saltiness of the seafood near him or hear the sound of the waves, and yet he felt tense.

Maybe the sea was taunting him, he reasoned, unsure as to why he was so unsettled. He sat down on a bench and retrieved his sketchbook from his backpack, and found himself doodling a boat being rocked by a storm, with a captain wearing a yellow jacket stood squarely by the wheel, taming the waves with his strong and deft hands.


	2. time passes

Jongin wasn’t a big drinker these days, but it seemed that it was a recurring theme in his life to find himself in a position where he does not refuse things out of politeness. This is why Kim Junmyeon, one of Chanyeol’s fellow fishermen, was pouring him a shot of soju on a Friday evening when Jongin had work the next day. He thought it best to not protest and not make a scene in front of Chanyeol’s hyungs, but he said a little apology to his head that was sure to hurt tomorrow as he threw the liquid back quickly. Do Kyungsoo clapped on Jongin’s back when he got it down him without spilling most of it down his chin.

“Good man,” Kyungsoo’s low voice carried over the steady hum of the chatter at the bar.

“If you’re receiving praise this high, this means Kyungsoo-hyung must really like you,” Chanyeol giggled, cheeks well on their way to redness. He was sitting next to Jongin on the barstool, and Jongin’s vision wasn’t yet clouded enough to not notice how the patch in between his collarbones turned red. Chanyeol may have been a worse drunk than him, though, as he volunteered to buy another round when this one was nowhere near finished, and Kim Jongdae told him to get himself together and shoved some food in his mouth to sober him up.

They had taken a cab to Idoil-dong when they finished work in celebration of Kim Junmyeon’s birthday. When Jongin protested that he would be intruding considering he’d never even met any of the men before, Chanyeol told him that was nonsense and that he was personally invited, as apparently this Kim Junmyeon ‘_wanted to know if Kim Jongin was as cute as Chanyeol told everyone_’, which Jongin did not hesitate to pinch Chanyeol’s ear for. Chanyeol’s smug grin told Jongin he possessed not a single morsel of regret.

“You know, I can’t see any resemblance to Sehun at all,” the birthday man in question said as he nodded towards Jongin, who didn’t know where to look after having all eyes on him at the table.

“We’re cousins on my mother’s side. I look like my dad,” Jongin had put, simply. Junmyeon snickered at Jongin’s bluntness.

“I like this guy too.” Jongin’s ears burned. He didn’t know if the men were laughing at him or with him, but their smiles seemed genuine enough. Chanyeol’s hand landed on Jongin’s thigh as he doubled over in laughter over some story that Jongdae told him that Jongin hadn’t caught half of, his eyes screwing shut and laughter reverberating throughout the bar.

Kyungsoo drummed his fingers on the table and moved to get up from his chair. “Right, I’m going for a smoke. Jongin, you’re coming with?”

“Ah, sorry,” Jongin started. “I don’t smoke.” Kyungsoo looked at him for a moment longer and Jongin scrambled to get up from his chair. He felt Chanyeol’s warm hand on his shoulder and he quickly moved to throw his jacket on. “I won’t be long. Don’t tell my aunt.” Chanyeol mimed zipping his mouth shut, and Jongin felt his gaze on the back of his head as they walked outside, burning heavy like his rough palm on his leg. His vision began to swim a little as the drinks caught up with him.

The night air smelled fresh and the cicadas were as numerous as the stars that dotted the inky sky, but the scent of the sea still vaguely permeated even when they were further from the coast. Perhaps it was something Jongin carried with him these days. A world away from the gay bars along Jongno-3-ga that him and his closest university friends frequented, breaths curling as they stepped outside on cold November evenings, holding their stomachs full of liquor and laughter. Kyungsoo passed him the cigarette pack and a lighter as smoke tendrils escaped his mouth. The same, but different.

Kyungsoo’s brow was heavy and dark beneath the stark floodlight and Jongin felt like a boy in front of him. His face was weathered by a life spent outside and he had the gravity of a man who had served in the army when he was young, unlike Jongin whose hands covered in blisters after the first week of dish-washing and who didn’t enlist despite his mother hinting that the end of his internship might have been the time for him to toughen up and face reality. Now his hands will smell of smoke, lingering long after he stubs his cigarette out. He always hated how it sticks in his clothes and his hair.

“I like you, you know,” Jongin chuckled at Kyungsoo’s declaration because he didn’t know what kind of conversation he’s ought to be making with this man. He felt a little intimidated, and if he’d had one more drink, he would not have noticed that Kyungsoo called to follow him just as Chanyeol started to get handsy. Maybe he was protective of Chanyeol. “I already told you. But ever since you came around it’s like…” Kyungsoo trailed off, catching himself at the end of his sentence and taking a drag of his cigarette. “He’s really happy again. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, right?”

“No—no.” Jongin was being cornered by an intensely emotionally in-touch fisherman outside of a bar, and there seemed to be a big piece of the puzzle he was missing. 

The strange moment between them passed as quickly as it came, and Jongin followed Kyungsoo back into the bar, the noise of the place intensifying and Jongin’s ears attuning themselves to find the sound of Chanyeol’s laughter. Jongin tried to sneak glances at him, searching for any cracks beneath his boisterous and happy exterior, inching closer without realising, until Chanyeol turned to Jongin and his cheeks burned with the embarrassment of being caught staring. Jongin made a quick escape by making puppy eyes at Junmyeon who didn’t hesitate to pour him another drink, and he almost dropped the glass as Chanyeol’s hands brushed his nape, cupping around his ear to ask Jongin what him and Kyungsoo had been conspiring about. With the bravery of alcohol coursing through his veins, he looked at Chanyeol squarely, taking in the utterly charming combination of his glittering eyes and hair that needed a trim months ago and told him, “Nothing you didn’t already know.”

—

“Why don’t you like the beach?” Chanyeol had asked him one day as he sat at one of the tables in front of the kitchen during the afternoon lull, when Jongin had nothing better to do than entertain his antics and ignore the pile of vegetables he had to chop. “Is it because of the sand? Is it because it’s rough, coarse and it gets everywhere?”

Jongin stared at him blankly. Chanyeol’s expectant grin began to falter. “Please tell me you’ve seen Star Wars.” Jongin shook his head hesitatingly, and Chanyeol put his face in his hands.

“What am I going to do with you? At least I can count on you to not make jokes about me looking like Yoda,” he reasoned.

“I don’t know. I just haven’t seen it. There isn’t a real reason for it, really.” Jongin looked down and traced the grooves of the chopping board with his gloved fingernail, and thought about all the other things that must make him seem obtuse to Chanyeol. “I don’t like the beach because the water is dark and it scares me, and the sand moves quickly. So there.” Jongin looked up sharply to meet Chanyeol’s round, surprised eyes. He felt like he had revealed too much, and yet not enough to make him not seem irrational. He wished Chanyeol could pick him up and read him like a book so he didn’t have to voice his thoughts out loud, but life was not made of such things. Jongin had the sneaking feeling that Chanyeol was beginning to open him, reciting the pages out loud when Jongin felt too scared to.

“Hey, look at me,” Chanyeol stood up and reached over, jutting out a knuckle to tip Jongin’s chin up. Jongin’s heart jumped at the contact, and he chastised himself for being so dramatic when the other man had probably meant it as a friendly touch. “Come to my house tomorrow and we can watch it together. I promise to quote only about half of it.”

“Sure,” Jongin quirked him a smile, grateful for Chanyeol not pursuing the subject of his fears further. Maybe he can read him better than he thought. “Now, are you going to order something or are you going to keep freeloading on the vegetable offcuts? I’ll tell my aunt on you.”

Chanyeol guffawed in surprise at the unusually sharp quip from the other man, and Jongin jokingly glared at him as he swung a knife at the radishes.

“Your aunt loves me anyway.” Chanyeol retorted.

If Jongin had pretended to look busy whilst trying to capture the way Chanyeol’s dark hair coloured a honey halo from the light behind him as he chattered away, Chanyeol didn’t have to know. He would never see the many iterations of Chanyeol’s eyes, hands and profile in Jongin’s sketchbook anyway. He simply had the eye of an artist, Jongin told himself, observing his subject and committing him to memory to sketch later. That was the reason for why his gaze lingered on the gentle slope of Chanyeol’s nose and lips.

—

Jongin had been let off early at work after he told his aunt he would be going to Chanyeol’s house, and he felt a mild dread at having to answer her probing questions later. Chanyeol picked him up near his apartment building, after they both got changed from clothes that smelled of fish. Jongin did not fuss nervously with his shower-fresh hair like wimpy a sixteen-year old before a date, but he changed his shirt twice like a respectable man in his twenties with butterflies in his stomach.

“Didn’t you drag me here for the ‘_I don’t like sand_’ part?” Jongin asked, once they had settled with snacks in Chanyeol’s bedroom, sitting on mismatched chairs in front of Chanyeol’s desktop computer. Chanyeol had a wide, western-style bed and his room looked significantly more lived in and cosy than Jongin’s own, with the walls adorned with ticket stubs and posters of rock bands Jongin had never heard of. There was a guitar propped up in the corner, well used and covered in peeling stickers. “When is it coming?”

“Well, we couldn’t have started on the prequels without you running for the hills, so it isn’t in this film,” Chanyeol stated matter-of-factly.

“But why?”

“We’ll get to that one eventually,” Chanyeol replied, eyes fixed firmly on the screen. “Focus on the film. Obi-wan is giving Luke his father’s lightsaber.”

“You may as well be speaking French to me right now,” Jongin replied, and Chanyeol hid his smile in his hand. Jongin wished he could have seen it and stolen it for himself.

Inevitably distracted, he looked at the way the glare of the screen reflected in the round glasses Chanyeol wore when he watched things up close. He was struck by how domestic and familiar the scene felt. With Chanyeol’s daily visits to his work and his easy promise of watching the other films, they were teetering into the territory of permanence rather than friendship by circumstance. The thought both excited and scared Jongin, as one by one, the relationships he built in Jeju began to tie him down and tether him, no longer floating above the city like a balloon on a string. Chanyeol had become a constant in his life; his presence was as sure as the knowledge that the wave that crashed against the shore will quickly be followed by another one.

“You know,” Chanyeol cleared his throat, and turned to look at Jongin who flitted his gaze away before the man could catch him staring. “The beaches where I work are made of rocks.”

“How does that have any relevance to anything?” Jongin gave him a questioning look. He kept saying strange things. Maybe he got food poisoning from the raw saengseon-hoe his aunt had fed them earlier. She always fussed over Chanyeol so much.

“It’s not sand. So maybe you can come visit me.”

Jongin studied his nails for a moment of silence that dripped over the edge of awkwardness, like condensation cascading down a glass with increasing speed. He was in unfamiliar territory and it felt like the tide was rising quicker than he could run from it, but something about Chanyeol told him he can be trusted with a secret. “The water is still there.”

“But you don’t have to go in it. I have a boat, and we can go to the lighthouse. Make a day of it.”

“What’s so good about the lighthouse? I can see it from my window anyway.” Jongin pouted, knowing he probably sounded petulant.

If Jongin had squinted, he would have seen that the tips of Chanyeol’s ears had gone red, but maybe it was a trick of the waning light falling through the window. “Something. Something that I want to show you.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what it is? Is this blackmail?” Jongin questioned, and Chanyeol laughed in response but shook his head. “Fine. Have it your way, mystery man. You keep your secrets and I keep mine. I’ll think about it.” 

Later that evening, after Chanyeol had dropped him off back home and they exchanged contacts, Jongin sat at the desk in his room, the pages of his sketchbook coloured yellow from his lamp. He stroked the graphite he coloured Chanyeol’s dark hair with and smudged it with his forefinger, yet it still did not look entirely like him. Maybe he would have preferred it if there were no secrets between him and Chanyeol at all. He felt the ghost of Chanyeol’s touch on his shoulders still.

He picked up his phone and scrolled to Chanyeol’s name on Kakaotalk. He thought about calling him, but he didn’t want Chanyeol hearing the nervousness in his voice.

[10:22] kji94: I thought about it.

[10:22] kji94: Let’s go.

[10:23] kji94: Don’t make me go in the water though.

The screen barely had time to dim before it lit up with a notification.

[10:24] real_pcy: :D 

[10:24] real_pcy: I promise it will be worth it ^^


	3. the lighthouse

The waves rocked the boat gently. Jongin’s knuckles were white from gripping the metal so intensely. For a brief second, he felt another hand stroke his, feather light, before Chanyeol turned his attention back to manning the ship. The wind whipped Jongin’s face, and the earlier rain had slowed down to a mere drizzle, but Jongin still tightened the drawstrings of his borrowed raincoat tighter.

“You look like a baby chick in that coat,” Chanyeol said over his shoulder, eyes bright and hair windswept.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking ahead? So that we don’t die?” Jongin retaliated, shouting over the buzz of the small engine. He didn’t know if Chanyeol was just simply making fun of him; he could probably attribute the blush that rose high on his cheeks to the wind that had picked up after they got further from the pier. He’s pretty sure his embarrassing squawking while trying to get on the boat could be heard in Seogwipo. “Besides, it’s your coat anyway. You’re the chick,” he sulked. “You drag me on this godforsaken boat, and then you make fun of me.”

“I never said it was an insult.” Chanyeol looked like he wanted to say more, but another death glare from Jongin silenced him. “You okay?” He asked, quieter.

“Yeah,” Jongin breathed. He trained his eyes on the lighthouse rapidly approaching in his line of vision—a red monolith cutting through the early morning haze. In the distance, small rocky islands scarred the landscape. He turned his eyes to Chanyeol, trailing over his focused gaze and tightened lips. In moments when Chanyeol looked pensive, Jongin had questioned if he had gotten him all wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t the sun like he thought; Chanyeol was like the moon, eyes dipping into crescents when he smiled, drawing the tide in with each of his breaths. “I’m fine,” Jongin added, and he meant it.

A short while after, they approached the jetty. As Chanyeol secured the boat behind him, Jongin took tentative steps on the wooden boardwalk. He turned around to look at Chanyeol, who was gazing back at him in an earnest expression of concern. A spark of childishness ignited within him, and he beckoned Chanyeol with a finger before he took off running, as the other man screeched indignantly. The wood thundered under their heavy steps, and Jongin let out a laugh of wonder at the salty wind that stroked his hair. The waves crashed into the rocks, and Jongin’s heart sang.

“I’m here! I did it, Chanyeol, I didn’t let the sea win,” Jongin shouted at the top of his lungs, without a care for who would overhear. The birds shrieked overhead in response. His chest started to feel tight as his breath rapidly escaped, and he slowed to a stop as he reached the foot of the lighthouse, panting and leaning a hand on the solid structure. It looked so ordinary in front of him, large and rooted to its spot. No wind could beckon it out of place; it stayed there for life. The paint was peeling, and he traced his fingertip over the faded scratchings made by people who came here before him. He heard Chanyeol’s steps as the other man climbed up the short flight of stairs to reach Jongin.

“Hey Chanyeol,” Jongin began, without turning around. “You never told me what was so special about lighthouses.”

“I see them when I’m coming home. They’re like an old friend.” Chanyeol’s hands were on Jongin’s shoulders now, and the man tasted his rapid pulse in his throat. “That’s not why I brought you here, though.”

“And why is that?” When Jongin turned around, he could not have prepared himself for how close Chanyeol was. He had to look up slightly to make eye contact with the taller man, whose dark eyes were unreadable. Jongin felt the rough pad of a thumb brush his jawbone, and his gaze dropped to Chanyeol’s lips. As Chanyeol clocked the movement of his eyes, he moved fatally close to Jongin, their lips separated by nothing more than a breath. For a split second, Jongin saw his own fear reflected in Chanyeol’s dark pupils. Wading through the waters of the impossible tension between them, Jongin nudged forward and connected his mouth with Chanyeol’s. The water burst through the dam, and Jongin began to demand more, to kiss hungrier. Chanyeol breathed in roughly through his nose as Jongin’s hands found themselves in his hair, wandering freely in amazement at their new-found proximity. Chanyeol cradled Jongin’s head in both of his hands now, shielding him from the wind around them. Their kisses trickled to a slow stop, and with a final peck, Chanyeol gently withdrew. 

They were now both breathing heavily. Jongin tried to take a step back, but his heel hit the lighthouse behind him. Chanyeol’s hand fell from Jongin’s face, and hesitantly found a place to hover by his waist. “That’s why.” Chanyeol finally replied.

“Oh,” Jongin replied dumbly, and wished he had said nothing at all. Chanyeol must have found his inelegance sweet in his affected state, if his red ears were anything to go by. He looked at Jongin intently, and all of his anxious questions about what all of this meant died on his tongue. They’ll be answered eventually. Jongin always had to remind himself that time ran slower here.

“I’m playing an open mic night at one of the bars in the city next week,” Chanyeol said into Jongin’s ear as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Jongin shivered. “Come.”

“I didn’t realise you played instruments.” He remembered the guitar in the corner of his room now. He didn’t think anything of it, but now that he’d said it, he could have pictured Chanyeol as one of the pretty idols that he hears playing on the radio in the restaurant’s kitchen.

“There’s a lot of things we still don’t know about each other. Isn’t that exciting?” When Chanyeol said it so simply, Jongin couldn’t argue, even if worry gnawed at him for opening their hearts to each other. “When I was younger, I was scared of the water too,” Chanyeol continued and drew back from their embrace. Jongin scoffed, and Chanyeol chided him. “No, I’m serious!”

“Well, how did you get over it?”

“My grandmother taught me to hold my breath by being with me underwater until I could do it by myself. The moment that you see the sky again when you return to the surface for air…” Chanyeol was quiet for a moment. “There’s nothing better than that. She told me I can’t be afraid, because the water feeds us, and it was expected of me to grow up to be a fisherman, since she could never convince my sister to go down that road. Yoora was always too big for Jeju-do, and our family knew that. So it was all down to me.”

Jongin reflected. No one had taught him the importance of holding your breath when he was little, and he wondered if he ever stopped to appreciate the sight of the sky as much as Chanyeol did. His childhood memory looked at him dead in the eye now. The breathless ache of his lungs as he was drowning had struck a lifelong deep fear into him, until his father dove after him and pulled him out. His small body was wracked with coughs, and after that year his mother had started to take them on summer vacations elsewhere. He’s never been here to see to see the yellow canola flowers begin cover the island after the winter. He’s never been here to witness the Chilmeori Shrine rites for Grandmother Yeongdeung. Next year, he would like to pray for the wind goddess to be merciful to Chanyeol as well. The cloudy stretch of his future was uncertain, but Chanyeol’s hand felt warm in his palm.

“Tell me more about your grandmother,” Jongin asked. He had only seen glimpses of the older woman at his restaurant, and the reverence with which Chanyeol spoke about her made Jongin’s heart ache dully when he thought about his own family, and the awkward distance between them. He thought about how he should call his mother one of these days, even if her concern is thickly shrouded in snippy comments about how well her next-door neighbour’s sons are doing, and the unspoken expectation that he should do the same.

“I worry about her these days. Even if she doesn’t say it, she’s getting older. A lot of the women in her fishing collective have retired in the past few years, and their catches are getting smaller. She lives further out of the city with my aunt and uncle, so that’s why I drive her out here sometimes. Of course, I don’t feel good being a commercial fisherman because it contributes to the problem, but we all have to make a living somehow,” Chanyeol was looking at his and Jongin’s clasped hands. “After I came back from the army, I spent a lot of time with her again and that’s when I really fell in love with the sea. When I’m older, I’d love to do work that preserves haenyeo culture and heritage.”

“Isn’t it funny, we still talk about the future like we’re kids who talk about distant dreams of what they want to do when they’re grown up.” Jongin mused. “I always feel like I’m a kid when I’m with you.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you to be this cheesy, romanticist.” Chanyeol cackled and slapped a broad hand on Jongin’s shoulder. 

“Forget it.” Jongin sulked, rubbing his free hand against the mildly sore spot and hiding his eyes behind the long locks that needed a trim. He thought about the fact that if his mother saw him now, she’d probably have more to say about the state of his hair than him holding hands with a man.

“Hey,” Chanyeol gently tilted Jongin’s chin up, and the other man was childishly skirting his gaze. “You’re only twenty four. Why do you always talk as if your life’s already over, hmm?”

_ Because it feels like it is_, Jongin wanted to say. Because the pace of Seoul felt like drowning, and building sandcastles out of time that crumbled under his hands. Jeju was made of rocks and lighthouses. At least their surface felt hard beneath his fingertips. As he got lost in his reverie, an urge came over him.

“Wait here, and sit exactly where you’re sitting right now,” Jongin instructed, and Chanyeol widened his eyes in surprise at the man’s antics but otherwise stayed silent. Jongin rummaged through the rucksack haphazardly thrown by the bottom of the stairs, and he hummed in contentment when he finally located his sketchbook and mechanical pencil. He situated himself on the bottom step, and told Chanyeol to sit facing sideways. “Because your profile looks nice,” Jongin explained. “But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Are you flirting with me right now, Kim Jongin?” Chanyeol played along, but dutifully stared ahead unmoving as Jongin sketched out the scene before him. One of Chanyeol’s long legs was tucked beneath him, as he perched his elbow on his knee, holding his face up. The sun was high in the sky now and the earlier clouds had cleared, and his raincoat laid abandoned underneath him. His longer hair was ruffled by the delicate hand of the sea breeze, and the image in Jongin’s head came together with the paper in front of him. _ It’s perfect_, he thought as the sea sighed around him. _ I have had my vision_.

—

Jongin found himself staring at his half-full drink, stirring the ice cubes with a straw. The voices of Chanyeol’s fellow fishermen all tangled over one another around him, and Jongin felt a little out of place without Chanyeol by his side. The man had gone to the small backstage area of the bar to prepare for his set, and Jongin tapped the fingertips of his free hand on the sticky wood of the table in anticipation. To pass the time, he was texting Taemin about something inane under the table, hoping the others wouldn’t notice his absence from the conversation.

[9:43] taemin_ltm718: you seen any mermaids yet?

[9:44] kji94: Are you a fool?

[9:44] taemin_ltm718: only as much as you are. what about mermen?

[9:45] kji94: Maybe.

[9:45] taemin_ltm718: are they hot?

[9:46] kji94: Can you shut up before I come back to Seoul to strangle you? Go feed your dogs again or terrorise your hyungs at the dance studio or whatever it is you do for fun.

[9:46] taemin_ltm718: ah i struck a nerve. so they are hot

“Jongin!” His head snapped up at the mention of his name. Junmyeon was giving him a playfully stern look. “Put your phone down. What have you been up to?”

“Sorry,” Jongin muttered sheepishly, pocketing his phone. “Same old. Chanyeol made me watch Star Wars, and he took me out on a boat. It was nice.”

“Sounds like you’re getting on just great,” Kyungsoo quirked a conspiratorial brow to Junmyeon. They concealed their smiles in a synchronised swig of their beers, and Jongin thought the amount of blushing he did must have made him look like one of the peppers he chopped daily. Kyungsoo continued to address Jongin. “Did he quote the whole film to you? He always does that whenever we watch stuff together, and he doesn’t stop until I slap the back of his head.”

“I didn’t mind it so much,” Jongin replied, and hoped he didn’t sound too far gone for Chanyeol. The concerned look Kyungsoo gave him made him think he must have seemed a little bit insane. 

“Man,” Jongdae started. “I’m gonna miss the kid if he’s gone.” The others around the table hummed in assent.

“Why would he be gone?” Jongin asked, confused by his words. He didn’t want to expect the unthinkable.

“Because his parents are selling the house?” Jongdae said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. At Jongin’s silence, he turned to look at him properly, and the fear in Jongin’s eyes must have been evident because Jongdae cursed. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

“Why are you all saying things that don’t make sense?” Jongin felt anger rise within him now as he gripped his cold glass tighter, hands wet from the condensation. 

“Look,” Junmyeon reached a hand out between them, trying to pacify the situation. “I think this is something Chanyeol should talk about with Jongin personally, so let’s drop it. He’s about to go on stage anyway.” The cheers and whoops from the other patrons at the bar intensified, and Chanyeol walked out with a small wave, his low voice reverberating in Jongin’s chest as he introduced himself.

Before he even knew it, Jongin had begun to sink into the into Jeju soil, and with the news of Chanyeol’s departure he felt like he was uprooted completely. Cursing himself for letting himself get attached to his place, he wished he could’ve gotten on the first plane back to Seoul and disappeared from this place without a word. The air of the bar felt hot, and his shirt clung to his back as Chanyeol’s baritone continued to pierce through him. Chanyeol seemed too big for run-down bars in Jeju; he should have been shining brightly on stages filled with adoring audiences, and Jongin felt like a fool for thinking he was too big for Jeju-do when Chanyeol was right in front of him the whole time. It was never about Jongin in the first place.

The stage lights danced purple and pink on Chanyeol’s wavy, half-coiffed hair. Jongin held his breath at how charming he looked in his dark blue sweater, wearing skinnier jeans than usual which the hyungs poked fun at him for. He handled the acoustic guitar in his hands as masterfully and gently as he did with all other things, like the steering wheel of his ship, or Jongin’s heart. Chanyeol’s voice was a little rough but the tone of it was warm as he entranced the audience.

After a couple of covers to warm the crowd up and two original songs, Chanyeol’s set came to an end. The cheers of the packed place drowned out his quiet mumble of _ thanks_. Jongin watched the man’s lips brush the microphone, and clenched his fists tightly. Chanyeol smiled sheepishly at the table cheering the loudest as the fishermen whistled and whooped, and his eyes found Jongin’s. His heart was pounding, and the unanswered questions swam in his head. He emerged from the stage a few moments later, and Jongdae ran off to fetch him a drink from the bar. The men all took turns to congratulate Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo ruffled his hair with an impassive look on his face.

“You were great,” Jongin tried to sound happy, even if it resonated oddly to his own ears. He found it hard to look into Chanyeol’s expectant eyes. Almost imperceptibly, the other man deflated at the vague praise, and Jongin felt even worse. After Chanyeol sank down into the seat next to Jongin, his hand searched until he linked pinkies with the other man beneath the table. Jongin screwed his eyes shut, and found it hard to concentrate on the conversation around him.

“You okay?” Chanyeol asked when the other men were too enveloped in their own conversation to realise how close he got when he spoke into Jongin’s ear. Or maybe they just didn’t care, and neither did the other people at the noisy bar. He hated how Chanyeol always had to ask him if he was fine because Jongin was never a good liar, and people never wanted to hear the truth.

“Can we talk?” Jongin was looking ahead of himself, but he still saw Chanyeol’s face fall from the corner of his eye. He felt like he was standing on sand again, sinking before he could stand.

“Sure,” Chanyeol’s voice sounded tight. “Guys,” he addressed the whole group. “Me and Jongin are just gonna get some air. It’s hot in here.” The men nodded, exchanging pointed looks. Jongin always felt like he was a step behind, and Kyungsoo was looking straight at him.

“Don’t get lost in Jongin’s eyes on your way out, Chanyeol.” Junmyeon joked, and the uneasy air around the table shattered with laughter. Chanyeol looked a little mortified, and Jongin was the only one that noticed. He had never told Jongin how much his friends knew about their personal life, and Jongin merely hoped they could keep a secret. They seemed good natured enough, but he always felt on edge about these things.

With a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, Chanyeol pushed through the busy bar to the courtyard outside. A guy who was smoking stubbed out his cigarette and shouldered past them with a nod, and then they were alone. Jongin’s ears were ringing from the quiet.

“You’re moving away?” Jongin’s voice cracked, and he admonished himself for sounding so weak. Chanyeol had gotten his guard down, taking away each stone of his walls until there was nothing left.

“Jongin—“ Chanyeol surged forward, taking Jongin’s face in his hands.

“What if someone sees?” he hissed, trying to move his face away. 

“I don’t care. Jongin…” Chanyeol began again, but lowered his hands to respect the other man’s space. Jongin was backed into the wall, and he was sorely reminded of being in a similar position at the Lighthouse. Somehow, he didn’t think Chanyeol would be giving his heart to him again—perhaps he decided he wanted it back. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it exactly?” 

“Yes, my parents are selling the house. I don’t want to leave Jeju-si, though. My whole life is here, and I’ve never known anything else.”

“Well, do you want to?” The simple question Jongin posed wasn’t that uncomplicated after all. Chanyeol looked a little stunted, and maybe he had never been asked that before.

“I don’t know.” The words were a sharp pain, like a jagged rock on the seabed. They looked at each other in silence. Jongin felt drops of rain begin to fall on his warm skin, and he tugged on Chanyeol’s sleeve to pull him closer and shield them both from it under the alcove. He felt Chanyeol’s warm breath puff on his face, and the carefully placed strands of his hair were now out of place after he carded his fingers through them in exasperation. 

They had reached a standstill; Chanyeol wasn’t ready to talk about the things he did not have an answer for, and Jongin wasn’t yet brave enough to ask him to stay. The unspoken feelings sat heavy between them. 

Chanyeol cleared his throat. “Do you want to come see my grandmother with me? I’m driving down to see her on Friday and I want you to meet her properly.” His words were a peace offering, and Jongin just wished the storm in his heart would calm down.

Jongin wondered if this was the beginning of a goodbye. He said yes. Deep down, he knew he would always say yes to Chanyeol.

—

Jongin could tell where Chanyeol had gotten his confidence from. His grandmother moved deftly and without hesitation, her aged hands trained by years of expertise. He had watched her in the water earlier from a distance; her black flippers disappeared into the depths and her tewak bobbed, disturbing the calm of the water. After she came out, water sluicing off her black wetsuit, they had waited for the seaweed to dry out on the rocks, and Chanyeol was telling her all about a big storm him and the other fishermen had gotten into. She spoke simply, choosing fewer words that did the trick—_respect the sea, and you’ll get respect back_. Her demeanour was hardened by the decades she spent in the water, teetering dangerously close to death in the depths—it was almost like she felt more at home there. Jongin searched and almost got lost trying to find the eyes of her grandson somewhere in the labyrinth of wrinkles on her face; he decided they were more alike in their mannerisms.

They were at the old house now, which was small, but clean and well-kept. The grandmother showed them around her vegetable garden and her fridge full of fresh catch with pride as she told the men about the days she watched her older sisters curled up on the kitchen floor, trying to coax the flames into the sotdeok—a hearth for cooking in the traditional houses. Things were much easier these days, she told them as she talked about how some of the haenyeo in her collective were _ so old fashioned_. Chanyeol laughed and teased her for being a cosmopolitan lady; Jongin watched their light banter with a smile of his own. Grandmother Park lived in her annex, while her daughter and son-in-law had moved into the main quarters, as was the custom. There were framed pictures of her as a younger woman with a man who had an easy smile scattered around; Jongin assumed the husband had passed away, but he felt rude to pry about the details.

“What brings you to Jeju-do, Jongin?” Her gaze was sharp and wry, and Jongin felt like he was being looked right through. He glanced away, gaze fixating on the waves breaking on the shore through the window. The sun warmed the room up, and Chanyeol’s hair looked almost auburn under the bright light. Jongin’s nape felt hot.

“I was working as an illustrator in Seoul, but I’m taking a break.” Jongin decided to give a half-truth. “I’m helping out at my aunt’s restaurant, where we briefly met before. Can I help you out with the food at all, halmeonim?”

“Ah, you’re so formal,” she waved him away with a small smile. “I’m not that senile yet. Sit down, both of you.” Her hands were moving quickly as she chopped chives in preparation for making _ mulhoe, _a cold raw fish soup made from her catch of the day. “How did you meet our Chanyeol? And why did he bring me to meet you?”

“We met at the restaurant,” Chanyeol supplied as he noticed Jongin blush under her questioning. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

“I wanted to hear it from Jongin, sweetheart.” Her grandson nodded, and leaned back from the conversation, long legs stretching under the low table. “You seem quite close.”

“We have gotten quite close in the time I’ve been here, yes. Chanyeol has been very kind to me, showing me around the island.” Jongin’s hands were tracing nervous patterns on his thigh, and he felt Chanyeol’s ankle hook around his. They were crossing into dangerous waters, but the grandmother had her back to them as she cooked.

“Well if you’re in a hurry, I don’t think this is the right place for you, young man,” she said matter-of-factly, and Jongin’s heart sank like an anchor. Time meandered differently here, as he began to count it in sunsets he caught with Chanyeol, or how many times he could make him laugh until he cried. He had finally stopped feeling like he was constantly running from something, racing to get to the future until his lungs burned. When he looked back, the shadows had hidden themselves out of view and there was nothing behind him. Why did he run? He thought about whether she knew that he wasn’t the one whose departure loomed like an impending storm.

Sensing Jongin’s nerves, Chanyeol broke the thread of heavy conversation as he complained about feeling too restless and insisted on at least getting some of the side dishes out of the fridge whilst his grandmother was finishing up the mulhoe. Jongin watched them move around each other in practised harmony, and his heart brimmed with so much affection for Chanyeol as he helped his grandmother reach things on the top shelf with a hand on her small, sloping shoulder. He was gentle and attentive, hanging on to every word she said. 

Out of all the times for Jongin to realise he was just a little bit in love with Chanyeol, it had to be just then—just as Chanyeol dropped the tub of kimchi on the floor, profusely apologising. His grandmother threw her head back and laughed just like him, and Jongin was sure the thudding of his foolish heart could be heard from across the room. In the corner of the small kitchen, he felt the terror of the possibility of Chanyeol slipping from his grasp sink deeply into him. He knew he would follow him anywhere, walking to the end of the jetty and jumping off into the depths of the water to find him again.

Chanyeol mopped up the floor and their dinner was served. The boys thanked her for the food, and Jongin was secretly grateful for the distraction as he spooned mouthfuls of the soup to hide his warming face. He could barely taste anything. His eyes flickered up from his bowl to see Chanyeol looking at him already, and he thought about whether he could notice something different in Jongin’s gaze. Did he want Chanyeol to know?

“Chanyeol,” his grandmother began after she had finished the last mouthfuls of her food. “Why don’t you go and show Jongin the view from the cliff? I’m a little too tired after being out in the water all day.”

“I think he sees enough of the sea every day, halmang,” he laughed. “Jonginnie here isn’t too fond of it.”

“Then however did you two even become friends?” Her disbelief was evident as she gave Jongin a scrutinising look. Chanyeol spent so much of his life at sea that it must have been unthinkable for him to separate himself from it for anyone else.

“Actually, I quite like it now,” Jongin’s voice was quiet as he interjected. “To tell you the truth, I used to be scared of it, but I think I’m over it now.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol breathed, surprise evident in his bright eyes. His grandmother hummed in approval as she began to clear the dishes away. Chanyeol rose to help, but she nudged them both out of the kitchen, waggling a finger, complaining about how she cannot afford to fix anything else that Chanyeol breaks.

They said their goodbyes and waved to Grandmother Park until they saw the door swing shut after they got further down the rocky path. They were headed out for one of the olle trails zigzagging the rising hills around them, walking in a heavy silence punctuated by their footsteps. It was different from the comfortable bubbles between conversation that they had grown accustomed to over the time they spent with each other. A confession weighed down Jongin’s tongue like lead, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

The grass was restless under the balmy wind, and the bent trees on cliffs by the coast reminded him of old men; their backs hunched by harsh gales and time. The water foamed white as it crashed against the black rocks at the bottom of the cliff. He stopped to watch the waves; the landscape changed before him—it struck him how the current moment had already become the past. On the other side of them, distant oreum peaked above the tall grass. The hills kept watch around them, and Jongin felt the reverence for this small, beautiful, scarred island sit heavy on his shoulders. Chanyeol had shown him every part of his home and his family and never asked for anything in return. Jongin never wanted to leave Jeju behind. He felt irrevocably changed.

“Shall we race the sun before it goes down?” Chanyeol broke the silence, looking at him with a childish glee in his eyes, and Jongin contemplated if the man he loved could see how scared he was to tell him so.

The sun was beginning its descent. They were running out of time, and the molten rays coloured everything around them. If he lost Chanyeol, Jongin thought, at least he would have this—the gold tinged pages of his sketchbook that he spent filling all summer, committing every smile to paper.

“Game on.” 

They huffed as they hurried down the winding paths under the impending sunset, inching closer to the tallest cliff on the trail. Jongin felt so small as the few people straggling behind them looked like dots. The green hills could have swallowed them up, and no one would have known.

“We should stop here before we stray too far from the car.” Chanyeol’s voice was quiet, but Jongin still heard it over the echoes of the sea below. This part of the footpath was quiet, and they sat down on a patch of grass on the clearing nearby the trail, separated by a few sparse trees. Jongin had tried to put some distance between them, but Chanyeol scooted closer.

“So,” Jongin began, tucking his knees under his arms as he hugged himself. Better to steel himself from the blow if it comes. “Have you made up your mind yet?”

He didn’t have to elaborate on what it was about. Chanyeol knew.

“Yes.”

The wind had begun to pick up, and goosebumps broke out on Jongin’s skin. The nights came earlier in the late summer, and the residual warmth of the day emanated from the black rocks surrounding them. Nevertheless, Jongin felt the chill of the ground through the thin fabric of his clothes.

“And?” Jongin prompted, and it felt like jumping in an icy lake. He held his breath. “Did you bring me all the way out here to break my heart gently?” 

“When you asked me if I had ever wanted to do anything else, it really stopped me in my tracks. I kept thinking about it for days after. I’ve just always done what was expected of me, and I was happy to oblige—I never wanted to give my parents a hard time, especially after Yoora moved away.” Chanyeol spoke, and his voice was gravelly with thick emotion. Jongin recalled his mother’s disappointed face when he said he wanted to pursue art; he didn’t blame Chanyeol for taking the easier way out. “Of course, there’s so many things I want to do. I really want to do music, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living it for other people.”

Chanyeol stopped. Jongin saw his knuckles turn foam white as he clenched his fists, quickly wiping at his eyes. He had never seen Chanyeol get so worked up and he wanted to reach out, but his hand stilled in the air like a mast pulled tight. He had to give him space to talk.

“You changed everything. I wasn’t unhappy before, but I didn’t realise something was missing until I found it after we met. I love Jeju and I always will, but I had grown tired of it.” Jongin knew what he meant. Even though his heart was a million miles away from Seoul now, it would always hold a piece of him until he came back. “In these last few months, I feel like I learned so much about myself, and about friendship, and about…” Chanyeol’s voice got caught on the last word. “Love.” 

Jongin’s gasp was audible, and the air between them was electric. Chanyeol’s hand enclosed his, large and warm. He wanted to hear him say the words and looked at him intensely, gaze sharpening as the light waned. Of course, Jongin thought, he’s not the only one who has been keeping some secrets. Chanyeol could read him better than he let on, reaching through the walls he had built in solitude. Now they crumbled like sandcastles, and Jongin let the tide wash over them with a smile on his face. 

“I’ve fallen in love with you, Jongin. And I know that complicates things, but I can’t bring myself to deny it any longer. I’ll stay with you in Jeju, if that’s what you’d like to do. Maybe you can show me around Seoul sometime too, huh?” Chanyeol’s lighthearted tone was betrayed by the shake in his voice. 

They both felt the gravity of what he was offering, beyond a mere summer romance that faded out as autumn crept in. This was the sort of love that waits for you in the wooden doorways of empty houses and sneaks up on you when you’re not expecting it. Deep in his bones, Jongin knew it would haunt him for years to come if he were to run from it. He thought of his empty room in Seoul gathering dust, and the inevitable arguments with his mother when he would have to tell her that he’s not coming back for now. Chanyeol must have known it too, as his other hand counted the bumps along Jongin’s spine like he was trying to remember the shape of them before the moment was over. Jongin realised he had been silent for a while, and Chanyeol was growingly anxious as his large eyes darted around. An eyelash had fallen and stuck on his cheek, and his lips were bitten red from nerves. He was perfect.

Smiling, Jongin looked out into the sea and said (thinking to himself, nothing on earth can equal this happiness):

“I think I’d like to stay, if you’ll have me.”

Jongin could feel Chanyeol smiling into their kiss even when his eyes were shut. They kissed like there no longer stood anything between them, not minding their lips chapped by wind or the bumps of their noses into each other’s. There were still unanswered questions between them, but they could be worked out with time. _ Time_, Jongin thought in joy, as the idea of parting no longer loomed to cleave them apart like a guillotine. Chanyeol’s mouth was warm against his, and Jongin’s train of thought faded with each stroke of his tongue. He fisted Chanyeol’s jacket to steady himself, feeling like he was getting further from solid ground and after an eternity or a moment or two, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. The undercurrent between them sparked with a different type of electricity now, and Chanyeol couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jongin’s lips.

“Seoul is nice in the spring, you know,” Jongin blurted out, and Chanyeol scrunched his eyes shut and laughed until Jongin joined in. The moment burst like a bubble, and their surroundings dawned on them, but the distant path of the trail was quiet. Their laughter echoed. The sun had fallen below the horizon before they could reach the peak; they’d have to try and overtake it again next time. He took in Chanyeol’s face and the soft lines that framed his eyes as he smiled, and his expression was different too, no longer caught between showing too much or too little. He felt that they were wholly each other’s to hold and he knew that when he walked on the edge of a cliff like a fool, Chanyeol would be right beside him ready to dive into the unknown too.

“I’ll have to come and make sure.” 

It sounded more like a promise of a small _ forever _ than anything Jongin had ever known. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The settings in this fic are all based on real places In Jeju. I particularly urge you to look up Dalli Book Cafe on instagram - there are a lot of cute cat pictures. Although I have done my best to stay true to real places, I have inevitably taken some liberties with settings as well as their families (Jongin is an only child here for no particular reason other than it just ended up being that way). Please feel free to point out any glaring disparities that you come across. The lighthouse may or may not be real—that’s up to you to decide. I would love to hear what you think of the whole thing.


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